The Dance
by LiLJiLL4286
Summary: Bella Swan is forced to endure a week- long vacation with her mother and sister every summer. This year, the family visits a new hotel where Bella is volunteered to fill in as Lead Dancer for the final Showcase. With Edward as her partner, how can Bella say no? Entry for Twilight Goes to Hollywood Contest. 3rd Place Public Vote and 3rd Place Judge's Vote.


**Twilight Goes to Hollywood**

 **3** **rd** **Place Public Vote**

 **3** **rd** **Place Judge's Vote**

 **Summary:** Bella Swan is forced to endure a week- long vacation with her mother and sister every summer. This year, the family visits a new hotel where Bella is volunteered to fill in as Lead Dancer for the final Showcase. With Edward as her partner, how can Bella say no?

 **Pairing** : E/B

 **Rating:** M

 **Word Count:** 14, 654

 **DISCLAIMER: This story is based on the movie,** **Dirty Dancing** **, and crossed with characters from the Twilight books and movies. The author does not own any publicly recognized entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.**

We are only about seven minutes into our trip when I realize that my efforts are futile: the earbuds buried firmly within my ears and the volume streaming at max capacity does nothing to quell the soliloquy that is coming from my mother's mouth. I love my mother, I really do, but I've learned over the past twenty two years of my life that sometimes Renee Dwyer is better swallowed in small doses. I have mastered the skill of zoning her out to the point where I'm not really listening to the words she says when she goes off on tangents like this one, but rather just listening to the sounds she makes as she drones on about what she deems important in life.

Our definitions of _important_ have varied greatly over the years.

As she easily transitions her speech from retirement funds to plastic surgery and summer hair, I close my eyes and sink further down into the leather of the backseat behind her. I know she'll flash me a look if I stretch and put my legs and feet onto the seat next to me, so instead I maneuver myself into a position that won't bother me for the remainder of our car ride.

We make the trek every summer. My mom, my sister Angela, and I pile into my mother's version of the newest and flashiest model of whatever car is currently trending for our trip to The Hamptons. We started these summer trips ten years ago when I was twelve, Angela fifteen, and Mom and Phil newlyweds. I looked forward to leaving my small town of Forks, Washington every summer when I was younger, the novelty of having a new, rich stepfather opening up a world of wealth and opportunity that I had only read about books on the bookshelf in my bedroom that my father, Charlie, had built for me when I was in preschool.

But eventually, the novelty wore off. I grew up to form my own opinions, and found that I preferred the quiet and simplistic things in life: the sounds of the ocean waves lapping on the sand at the beach, the flicker and sparks from a neighborhood bonfire, the droplets of rain performing their own percussion against the roof of Dad's house in the middle of the night.

Not Mom. _Never_ Mom.

One hour into our car ride and I can see why both Dad and Phil had thrown up their white flags in defeat. Surrender.

Angela can handle Mom better than I can, and I throw a silent thank you in her direction as she deflects all of Mom's interrogations about pretty much all of our life choices. Career, men, fashion, and leisure activities - nothing is off the table when it comes to how vocal Mom is towards her daughters abilities to make adult decisions.

In my opinion, Angela and I have made fine choices as we ascended into adulthood, and I think I was maybe seventeen years old when I stopped letting Mom's voice be an influence on my livelihood.

It turned out to be one of my own best and favorite decisions.

Despite how toxic the inside of our car ride is, I can't deny the beauty of the area surrounding us as Mom's car smooths along the highway and brings us closer to the coast. I can almost feel the sand beneath my toes and the warmth from the sun on my skin. That thought alone is enough to make me open my eyes and stretch on the seat, my neck straining to catch a glimpse of the cloudless blue sky. I roll my window down just enough so that Mom can't complain about ruining her summer hair, and I inhale deeply. The beach always carries a sense of nostalgia and peace through the air, spilling out beyond the sand and dunes right into the center of town. Judging by the smiles my sister and I are wearing, it creeps right into your being and warms your soul, as well.

This is why I always come back every summer. I can put up with my mother as long as I have the beach and the sand to drown out her worries and insecurities that she projects onto everyone in her life.

I take a glance into the front seat, and catch a look from my sister that confirms our suspicions from our conversation yesterday.

Renee Dwyer is nervous as hell.

Her nervousness rises from her own faults that she cannot yet own up to even though Angela and I can read her like one of our favorite books.

Ever since Mom and Phil divorced ten months ago, she's been walking a fine line on where she falls within the realms of the elite social ladder that means a lot to some people. Apparently.

I could not care less about my place in the world other than my own happiness, so it's hard for me to relate to her and her "problems". All I know is that we're staying at a hotel this year and not at Phil's house like we usually have in the past.

Gossip should be considered an Olympic sport in Mom's social circle, and I can see the worry lines appear on her face despite the years of Botox injections.

"What's the name of the hotel we're staying at?" I ask in an attempt to distract her from her own thoughts. Even though we disagree on mostly everything in this world, she is still my mother and she has always strived for my sister and me to have the best life she could give to her two daughters.

"The Sand Dollar," Mom replies, expertly turning the car past the town center and towards our destination. "Iris Stanley's cousin's sister in law vacations there every year."

I cringe at words like _vacation_ being used as verbs, but nonetheless I ignore it and continue.

"You trust Iris Stanley?" I try to hide the disdain that threatens to pour out of my mouth like the syrup on Sue Clearwater's pancakes back home in Forks.

Mom dismisses me with a wave of her hand and her perfectly manicured fingernails and bracelets on her wrists jingle at me. "Of course. She was the one who told me about Phil and one of his clients."

"I think I see it. On the right," Angela interrupts us thankfully and points to a very large, very beautiful, a very much _out of my league_ building to the right of us. To make matters worse, there isn't just one building on the property that screams of superiority. There are twelve small like cottages planted around the perimeter like stepping stones to the ocean.

Everything is utterly beautiful as I step out of the backseat and disentangle my limbs from their awkward position, so beautiful that I have to stop and take a moment to capture it all. Freeze frame and lock it in my mind. The sparkle bouncing off the water as it casts the sun's reflection across everything within reach. The grassy dunes that whisper against the wind. The stone walls of the principal hotel and surrounding cottages take my breath away as the late afternoon sun colors and romanticize the gray stones into a warm orange.

"Wow," I breathe out loud. I could put up with Mom for a week if it means staying here.

Towards the right of the cottages and closer to the beach sits a small but peaceful garden where I can easily picture myself reading or taking naps to pass the time. I graduated this past May from a physically and mentally demanding four year undergrad program resulting in a degree in business management, so there is nothing my body and mind crave more than peace and relaxation. I had been accepted to a Master's program in late August, which means that I only have four weeks' time to get all the sleep I can get before school takes over my life once again.

No better time to start than now.

After picking my jaw up off the ground, I head to the trunk of the car to gather my bags with a quick shake of my head to bring me back to the present.

"I'll take these for you, Miss," a voice says from behind, startling me. I turn around so fast my hair falls in my face in a mangled mess. I try as gracefully as I can to slide the brown hair out of my line of vision.

When I finally manage to toss my hair back behind my shoulder, what I see does not disappoint.

The ring I see on his left hand, however, does.

"Oh. Here, thanks," I reply, handing one of my bags over to him. He takes it without a struggle and eagerly reaches for the rest. Compared to my mother and sister, I come carrying lightly with only three bags.

"My pleasure, Miss…?" I can hear a soft twang in his words as if his tongue takes the time to enjoy the roll each syllable brings. It takes me a moment for my brain to register that he is looking for an answer from me.

"Bella," I answer as he places my bags on a rolling cart that is more luxurious than my own car back at home.

"Isabella," Mom corrects as she steps next to us at the trunk of the car.

Before this gorgeous man can say another word, I shake my head with a slight roll of my eye. "Just Bella."

An awkward standoff is moments from taking place on the gorgeous wrap around driveway of the principal hotel as Mom fights for domination in any capacity. Naturally Angela steps in to save the day and Mom's reputation from any curious onlookers.

"Thank you," she says to him, peering over at the nametag on the crisp shirt of his uniform, "Jasper."

It seems like he tilts an imaginary cowboy hat in our direction before he pushes the rolling cart into the sweeping entrance of the hotel.

We check into our rooms quickly and soon the three of us are standing in front of three small and quaint, stone cottages. With room keys in hand, we agree to meet in Mom's cottage at seven for dinner. Since we have checked in on a Saturday, it is only natural that we attend dinner at the restaurant on the premises tonight. Most guests check in on Saturday's, so the dinner is an unspoken welcome and requirement to attend. From what Jasper has told us, it doesn't seem too bad, actually.

I don't think anything coming from that man's mouth could be bad.

I shake the thoughts of a married man and how long it's been since my last _anything_ with a man out of my head, the key in my hand sliding easily into the lock of my own private cottage.

Thoughts of sex and men are the last thing on my mind as I take in my surroundings, my own little slice of heaven before me.

It is small; it is beyond perfect.

The room contains no more than a large four poster King size bed tucked neatly into the corner, a small dinette table set for two between the bed and a small sitting area, and an even tinier bathroom with a bathtub designed for one. It is a combination of white wisps of linen and rustic brown edging and walls, with greenery placed sporadically around the room in the most perfect and calming sense. A small fireplace lines one of the stone walls in the sitting area, and I can almost feel its warmth in a winter months away from the present.

The most amazing part is the sliding glass door placed next to the bed that opens onto a private patio overlooking the ocean and greenery from the garden.

I don't see how I can manage leaving here in a week.

"Isabella?"

My shoulders tense at the name my mother insists on calling me, and I turn around to face her as she steps out onto the patio to join me.

"Still? None of your friends are here so you can cut it with your pretentious crap. Just Bella," I remind her again for what seems like the millionth time. "It's just us. Can you please go back to the Mom that used to feed me Spaghettios for breakfast?" I may be exaggerating but there is a slight chance I'm not.

"Oh, please!" My mother scoffs, inspecting the curtains for something she can deem unworthy. "Do you know how many preservatives are in that crap?"

I let her think I'm listening (again!) to her spiel about preservatives and gluten (she probably doesn't even know what gluten is) but instead I focus my eyes that are hiding beneath my sunglasses onto the water.

Nothing like a giant body of water to humble you back into your tiny little place on Earth.

It is when I hear the words _monosodium glutamate_ come out of Mom's mouth that I spot someone bending down near the small garden I had my eye on earlier. The figure is crouched down, so close to the dirt and grass that I can barely make a clear sighting. Curious as to what is so important to this person in the shrubs, I move a little in my seat on the wicker chair on the patio to catch a better view.

It isn't long before the figure, _ah it's a man_ , stands up with his hands on his hips deep in thought. I'm too far away to see his face but the fact that the copper from the fading sun matches his hair color does not go unnoticed by me.

It is stunning; it's a bronze you don't see very often. Or maybe just not in my world.

Regardless, it is hard for me to take my eyes off of him.

He stays in the garden for a few more minutes, randomly touching the leaves and flowers that flourish before taking one last look around. He stops momentarily when he sees me, not realizing that he has an audience in this area of the property. We are distanced far enough for both of us to quickly move on from the moment, even though the color of his hair remains in my mind long after he leaves the garden and makes his way down towards the beach.

"Have you thought about what you're wearing to dinner?"

Completely forgetting that Mom was still here next to me and talking, I pull my eyes and head away from the general direction of the mystery man and turn towards my mother.

"Yes, actually. I channeled my inner _Pretty Woman_ and found a perfect white and blue miniskirt. The top and bottom even connects by a hoop in the middle. _Vivian_ would be so proud," I mock.

"Isa –"

"Bella."

We are at a standstill, an impasse. Me not conforming to whatever Mom's vision of me is and her refusing to accept that I'll never be what she wants me to be.

Eventually I cave out of exhaustion. I sigh, "Don't worry. I'm not going to embarrass you."

Mom shakes her head and reaches for my hand and for a second she's the same person she was when I was six and she was still happily married to Dad.

"Oh, honey. I'm not worried about you embarrassing me. I just want what's best for you."

I know she believes herself when she says things like this but I know it's the other way around. She's a divorced woman hiding behind a lot of money and a good name, so if her strong-willed, independent and flip flop loving daughter defies the social norms of Renee's circle of friends, she could easily be on her way out of The Hamptons for good.

God forbid that should ever happen to anyone.

I'm too tired to argue with her and it has gotten old over the years.

"I'll see you at seven."

tgth

Dinner is a small, intimate gathering. With twelve suites inside the hotel and twelve cottages along the outskirts, I feel claustrophobic in my own skin as I reign in my sarcastic comments towards everyone around me.

I don't belong here.

On the outside I play the part; my hair is down, thick and heavy falling down my back with the ends loosely curled. My toes are freshly painted and stick out of an open toed pair of wedges that make me teeter on the brink of death with each step. Can't go wrong with a little black dress, as long as it's not too short for this crowd. I blot my lips with a napkin as not to ruin the make-up that is glued to my face.

I can look like I belong, but in reality, my sweatpants and the book I left behind in my cottage have been calling my name since my pinky toe went numb twenty minutes into dinner. The only saving grace tonight is our waitress Alice, my savior in a server's suit, who slipped Angela and me another glass of wine when Mom disappeared into the ladies room.

I guess my discomfort is harder to hide than I thought and she figured more wine would be the answer.

Whatever the question is, wine is always the answer in my book.

I especially think so when Mom asks Alice if she is working as a hotel waitress to put herself through college. Mortified, I am drowning myself in my glass when Alice answers her swiftly and unfazed by the rudeness that oozes out of Mom's skin like the chocolate in the lava cake before us.

"No, ma'am. My husband and I work here full time year round," she answers proudly. I smile at her boldness towards Renee Dwyer.

Mom continues on as if she hadn't said anything offensive. "Your husband works here? How lovely. Have we met him yet?"

"Most likely," Alice says as she loads our empty dishes onto the tray in her hand. "His name is Jasper."

"Oh, yes! We did this afternoon when he helped us with our luggage."

When one of Mom's friends from a summer long ago appears at our table a short while later and whisks her away to meet a new set of acquaintances, Angela reaches her hand out to gently touch Alice on the arm.

"I'm so sorry about her," Angela says with a sigh. "She can be a bit much sometimes."

I scoff and shake my head in disgust. Angela is one of the least confrontational people I know, and while most times it makes her easy going and predictable, sometimes I wish she would challenge Mom about her questionable behavior.

I watch as Alice shrugs her off with a smile.

"It's no problem. Really," she assures us.

I place my empty glass down on the table and point my finger towards Mom's general direction. "Don't apologize for her. She's a grown woman who knows very well what she is doing." I turn and focus my attention back to Alice who is silently chuckling beside me.

"I'm Bella."

My sister gives a small wave. "Angela."

I feel better knowing that Alice knows our names as well. It's the least I can do considering she supplied us with ample opportunity to be able to get through this dinner.

"Welcome to The Sand Dollar. Jasper and I will see to it that you ladies have a wonderful stay," she says, and we smile.

"I like you already."

"Don't mention it. It's not very often that I get to chat with people like you." She sneaks a look around to see if any guests are in the nearby vicinity, her short, black hair bobbing slightly around her head.

"People like us?" Angela asks, pushing forward the last of her dessert plate.

Alice leans in discreetly, "I can tell you two aren't from around here."

It's Angela's turn to survey her proximity to others. "That obvious, huh?"

"Who says that's a bad thing? I don't think it is." I interject. In fact, I pride myself on the fact that I am nothing like these people.

"I agree with Bella. It's not a bad thing at all."

"I don't know how you stand it," I say in amazement. "I would be fired in a week if I had to deal with the likes of Renee Dwyer every day."

Alice laughs and playfully rolls her eyes. "Eh, you get used to it and eventually, it doesn't even faze you. You just have to know the right people to stick with. I can introdu – "

"Girls? It's getting a bit late. Let's turn in, shall we?" Of course Mom shows up at this moment and a part of me wonders if this was yet another one of Mom's expert diversion tactics.

"Have a good evening, ladies. I'll see you around!" Alice says and disappears before we can say anything else.

tgth

I wake up the following morning in my bed, stretching my body like a starfish and sinking deeper into the white down comforter. Even though the sun has yet to make an appearance and the sky is gray in anticipation of the dawn of a new day, it is the best night's sleep that I have gotten in a long time.

Last night after I had returned to my room from dinner, I was smart enough to remember to set the coffee pot for the morning, and from the comfort of my bed I hear the sound of the brewing coffee dropping into the pot. I swing my legs out of bed as the aroma swirls around my room, slipping my fleece robe over my body and my feet into a pair of slippers. My hair sits in an unkempt pile on the top of my head, and I'm sure my mother would just about fall over at the sight of me leaving my room looking like this. I would like to say that she at least appears once in my mind as I sink into the plush cushion of the wicker chair on my patio, but with my eyes closed and the warmth of the coffee pulsing through my veins, my mother is the last thing on my mind.

Between the softness of my bed and the early morning breeze that flutters across my skin, it's hard to say what my favorite part of The Sand Dollar is so far.

I'm halfway through my cup and thinking of Alice and Jasper when I see him again.

I watch from my place on the patio as he makes his way from the beach again; it makes me assume that the beach is the path between his most important destinations. I already know where he is headed to before he gets to the garden, and again I watch him with rapt fascination.

Sure, plants and flowers are beautiful and all but I was not born with a green thumb, and anyone who knows me knows that I should never be asked to water a friend's plants while on vacation. Now that I think about it, I don't think any of the members of my family have a knack for gardening, either.

Maybe that's why I can't take my eyes off of the man with the copper hair in the garden.

He inspects each flower and plant with precision and ease, small smiles crossing his face every so often as if he is pleased with their progress. His fingertips graze the growth all around him, careful in every place that requires delicacy. It is intimate enough that I feel like I'm intruding on his space yet I cannot seem to make myself move.

I watch him from afar; he is too engrossed in his surroundings to notice me on my patio.

"Bella! Hi!"

Alice's voice rips into the still air of the morning, and I watch as the man in the garden lifts his head up towards Alice and then turns his gaze to focus on what, or who, Alice is looking at.

Me.

Good ol' me with bedhead and no bra. I wrap my robe more tightly around me in hopes the robe swallows me whole and buries me inside it.

He looks at me briefly before turning back to the garden.

"Morning, Alice." I call out, holding my coffee cup in the air in greeting. She motions for me to come join her.

Despite the fact that the last thing I want to do is come this close next to the mystery man looking like I was hit by a truck overnight, I walk over to her anyway, the wet morning grass slipping through my toes.

"Lucky you," she says once I make my way over to her. She is standing only a few feet away from him, and I try to casually glance in his direction. "You may have the best room we have to offer."

I nod and gaze at the sights before us. "I may have to agree with you on that one. It's so peaceful here."

At that moment the sun peeks through the horizon casting hues of soft orange and pink on us and the garden around us.

"One of the reasons why we stay." Alice says, and points towards the man who I've been watching for the past twenty minutes. "Bella, this is Edward. Edward is our groundskeeper here at The Sand Dollar."

I guess that explains his concerns about the garden.

"Nice to meet you," I somehow beat my nerves into submission and I give him a small wave. He nods back politely before looking around the area surrounding us.

"Enjoying your stay so far?"

His voice does not match the softness of his fingertips as they fluttered through the flowers a few minutes ago. He isn't as bubbly as Alice, not even close, yet the way he speaks is cordial and I do not feel slighted.

"Very," I reply, figuring the less words I actually speak makes for less of a chance of me embarrassing myself.

Edward's eyes meet mine for the first time at that moment, and at first I think it's a reflection of the greenery around us. It is when his eyes move away just as quickly and face the direction of the ocean that I realize that the green in his eyes comes from him alone.

And just like that, I have a new favorite part of The Sand Dollar.

tgth

"How exactly does this work?" Angela asks a few hours later at lunch. Mom went into town with her new acquaintances, who had chosen her side in the divorce after hearing Mom's side of the story, leaving Angela and I to spend the day at our choosing.

I could not have gotten to the beach fast enough, dying to cool myself in the water after my morning encounter with Edward.

Now that I knew his name, I couldn't stop thinking about the lethal dosage of awkwardness of our brief meeting this morning. I never was one with words, taking after my dad in that sense, so I didn't expect our conversation to move mountains but I was hoping for a little something more than formal pleasantries.

Angela and I had stayed on the beach for hours, and most of the time my thoughts wandered back to him and his garden and how I had literally rolled out of bed and looked like I had slept through a tornado.

I cringe every time I remember seeing myself in the mirror once I had said goodbye to Alice and hauled ass back inside the privacy of my cottage.

"What do you mean?" Alice responds. She is folding napkins at the table next to us as we wait for our food to come.

"Yesterday Jasper was greeting us at the door and now he's a server?" Angela points over to Jasper who places warm dishes in front of Mr. and Mrs. Call. He shoots a smile at Alice on his walk back into the kitchen, disappearing behind the swinging doors.

"The staff here can pretty much work any position within the hotel. It's easier for management to avoid any mishaps if we're all trained in every area."

I nod in understanding and sit back a little in my chair as a different server drops our food off in front of us.

"So what is it that you're doing today?" I question and with a laugh I add, "Besides talking to us."

The restaurant isn't too crowded for a Sunday afternoon, which explains why Alice has time to talk to us.

Alice peers around us to check the front lobby for any guests, looking back at us with a friendly mocking smile. "Today I'm your hostess. And since no one is here to be seated, I'm staying here."

"You won't get in trouble?" Angela asks.

Alice chuckles and continues folding the table linens in front of her. "No. Most of us have been here longer than the new owners. They wouldn't know what to do without us."

"Have you all been here that long?" I inquire, aiming for a casualness that hopefully hides the budding curiosity I have towards Edward.

"Jasper and I met here five years ago when we were eighteen. Edward was already here when we got here. Emmett and Rosalie started about three years ago."

"And you're all local?"

"Local, yes. But not natives. There's staff housing about a mile down the property that most of us take advantage of."

"You get to live here?"

"For the summer, yep. The view here never gets old no matter how long you're here."

I think back to the tantalizing ocean and the enchanted garden, groundskeeper included.

"It's pretty incredible."

Alice hums in response, finishing the last of her napkins and placing them into a brown woven basket. Her eyes scan the area, and in a flash her eyes light up. She points out the window over to a large white gazebo. There looks to be at least thirty people assembling inside, everyone scrambling to find a spot within the crowded space. Eventually they all settle, and in the front of them all stands a tall and beautiful woman of blonde hair with confidence oozing across the impeccable landscape that separates them from us.

Pointing at the woman in the gazebo, Alice emphasizes, "That right there is the only job that not just anyone can do."

I watch them briefly, and when I hear shouts of step counts and rhythm and beats, I look at Alice.

"Dance Instructor?" I guess weakly, even though it is pretty obvious that is what is happening.

"Rosalie Hale," Alice says assuredly and continues, "Best instructor around. She can make anyone look like they've been dancing for years."

After ten minutes of observation, I can see Alice is not exaggerating. I watch as people with all sorts of varying levels of ability master the moves that Rosalie had set for them for the days' instruction.

"Looks like she's got quite the crowd," Angela mentions and we laugh as one pair trips over the feet of the other and almost brings down the whole ensemble.

Alice agrees. "Always. She and Edward put on one amazing performance at the end of the week to showcase all the hard work the guests put into their lessons."

"Edward dances too?"

"Not professionally like Rosalie but he's never been able to turn down the final performance. Between us, the staff gets a pretty decent chunk of change to perform in the shows."

"He's that good?" I ask, still trying to keep my curiosity at bay.

"He's the only one that can keep up with her," Alice answers, and we watch as Rosalie performs in front of the crowd solo. By the time she is finished, we are all awestruck at the ease in which she bends and moves and contorts without a second thought.

"Amazing." Angela breathes.

"Come on," Alice says, standing up and motioning to us to follow her. "You have time to take a quick lesson."

While I do not doubt Rosalie's ability to transform non-dancers into future contestants on _Dancing with the Stars,_ I do doubt myself and the two left feet I was born with. I blurt out before it's too late, "Oh no, we were just about to – "

Alice blows me off. "Nonsense. You can't stay at The Sand Dollar and not take one of Rosalie Hale's classes. You'll thank me later."

An hour after Angela and I were pretty much thrown into the gazebo, I am not thanking Alice just yet. I can already feel the bruise that is forming now on my shin after I foxtrotted my ass into one of the wooden beams. I am rubbing my fingers along the sensitive skin when Alice and Rosalie come over to my sister and me, mischievous smiles on their faces.

Rosalie speaks as beautifully as she looks.

"Meet us in the front lobby at 10:00. We'll show you girls a real party."

tgth

"Mom is going to be pissed if she finds out we're going," Angela says as we move noiselessly through the grass on the grounds of the hotel. A few steps later we sink our toes into the sand and follow in the direction Alice and Rosalie had told us to go.

I shrug, not caring in the least about what Mom thinks. "That's why she won't find out." Walking a few steps, I stop and tug on Angela's elbow. "You didn't tell her, did you?"

"No! She assumed we were turning in when she did."

"She can be as mad as she wants. It's not like we're doing anything wrong." We weren't, technically. Angela and I were consenting adults meeting up with other consenting adults on a perfect summer night by the beach.

"No, but I did hear that there are strict rules about staff and guests." Angela has always been the one to follow the rules whereas I prefer to bend them just a little.

"Like what?" I question, glancing back behind us to see the lights from our hotel grow smaller and smaller as we proceed to our destination. In this case, Angela and Rosalie told us to meet them at the large mess hall behind the smaller staff cottages near the beach. It is a decent walk away from the hotel, maybe a half mile down the beach, but the air is cool and the sand is cool against our feet.

"Like us going to a staff party."

"We were invited." I counter back, straining a little around the curve in the land to see if we are close. According to Rosalie and Alice, all the staff is housed here during the summer season, and the thought of seeing Edward tonight has me almost running towards the cottages in anticipation.

We slow as we hear music coming from ahead and it is easy to see that we have arrived.

"Which one do you think it is?"

I point towards the row of cottages behind the dunes. "I'm guessing it's the one with all the lights on and music loud enough to wake the dead."

"Good call."

The building in front of us is tall and white with the paint chipping off haphazardly along the structure. I imagine it was one time a beach house that welcomed families and reunions and happy times. It is in no way dilapidated but rather well used and welcoming. I can see someone had taken it upon themselves to string bulbed patio lights around the house and the yard, creating the perfect atmosphere for a beach party.

We head inside cautiously, trying not to feel like outsiders intruding on these employees' much needed time off.

What we see when we open the door is the last thing I thought I would see.

I recognize almost everyone here; they are all employed in some way by The Sand Dollar, and almost all of them are dancing.

And not in the way we saw them dance this afternoon at Rosalie's dance lesson.

We stand in the door, Angela and I, and watch the couples on the dance floor, their bodies moving and working together to the beat of the music blaring from the speakers in the corner of the room. Every person on the dance floor is so lost in the music and the moves that we go unnoticed for a few minutes. We don't mind; it gives us a chance to absorb our environment and one last chance to bolt without anyone even knowing we were here at all.

Now I'm never one to turn down a little bump and grind, but what I see before me is shocking even to a free spirt like myself.

And when I see Edward on the dance floor with Rosalie, I know there is no way I can leave. I am hooked the minute I see his copper hair and feel his intensity all the way across the room. The air is smoky and hypnotic and filled with various smells of recreational plants. Through the haze, I watch him. Gone is the tender and thoughtful flutter of his fingertips that he had used when I watched him tend to his plants earlier this morning. It is replaced by hips circulating and hands sliding and heavy breathing and -

"There you are!" Alice's voice is in my ear before I can take my eyes off of him. Rosalie tilts backwards off of Edward's hips, his hands holding her hips in place as she continues her descent. Reluctantly, I peel my eyes away. "Come on, we're all over here."

She leads us over to a small seating area where Jasper greets us with a friendly smile. "You manage to sneak out okay?"

I take a beer from Jasper and crack it open, leaning in to hear him better. "Yeah, no problems. Just had to wait for our mom to go to back to her room." He nods and snuffs out a cigarette in an ash tray next to him.

"Ah, Ms. Dwyer? She's harmless."

I give a sarcastic laugh and shake my head in disagreement. "Looks can be deceiving,"

The four of us talk comfortably for a few minutes as Angela and I warm up to our surroundings. Laughter and loud music swarm my ears and I feel more comfortable here in a half hour than the past two days at the hotel with Mom.

"Come on. Let's dance!" Alice says, pulling Jasper up from his spot on the small couch. They look at me and then at Angela when they notice we don't move from our seats.

"What? Dancing not your thing?" Rosalie's question appears out of nowhere, as does she. She slides into Jasper's now vacant seat and crosses her legs towards us.

"I have no problem with dancing," I say, "I just think that dancing has a problem with me."

Suddenly I'm aware that he followed her over to us, and immediately I feel like the already small sitting area we occupy has grown smaller.

I'm hyper aware of his presence as Rosalie laughs and he slides a chair up next to us. "I'm telling you. I'll have you dancing by the end of the week." She points a red fingernail at me and I gulp the drink in my hand.

"I'm afraid it's going to take me more than a week's worth of lessons to dance like you, Rosalie."

She shrugs confidently. "We'll see."

Rosalie, Angela and I talk back and forth while Edward sits in silence, the four of us watching Alice and Jasper and everyone else shake off the workday.

"You ready, girl?" A loud booming voice interrupts our chatter and Rosalie's face brightens and she throws her arms over the neck of the owner of the big voice. He doesn't give her a chance to answer before they join the crowd on the floor.

If I thought Edward and Rosalie were borderline inappropriate, Rosalie and this guy take it to the max. The intimacy of the dance makes me think that they practice off the dance floor, as well.

"You're the only one not out there," Edward says to me, tapping my empty beer with a new full one. I gladly place mine on the table and take what he is offering. I tip the bottle towards him in thanks.

"What? No I'm not, my sister isn't either." I spin around to see an empty spot next to me where Angela had been sitting since we arrived an hour ago.

 _When did she leave?_

"Isn't that your sister over there?" He points to a darkened spot of the room near a fluorescent fish tank.

"Holy shit," is all I can muster as he laughs at my expense. "Who is that guy?"

He takes a swig on his beer and I try not to stare at the wetness it leaves behind on his lips. Or lick it.

"That's Ben, one of our yoga instructors. She's in good hands," he offers, and we watch as Ben's hand makes a slow retreat down her back. We laugh together.

"I can see that," I joke. I shrug and send an imaginative congratulatory high five in Angela's direction.

"So you're okay with that? Being the only one not dancing?" He points out there again.

"This can't be considered dancing," I shake my head in disbelief, hoping that he can hear the sarcasm in my voice. The small smile pulling on the corner of his lips makes me think he does. The smile may be tiny but it does crazy things to me.

"Why not?" Edward leans in closer to me, dipping his lips down closer to my ear so I can hear him over the music and voices around us. He checks them off on his long fingers as he lists them. "There's music. There's a dance floor. There's people. Looks like dancing to me."

"I've never danced like that before," I contend, thinking back to the college bar that we frequented almost nightly. Maybe we pushed the line a little but never to the point where I felt like I should close my eyes to give the people some privacy.

"Sure you have."

I shake my head and point to the people dancing. "Not to this degree. Pretty sure those people are fucking," I say, nodding towards two people in the back that most definitely have crossed that line.

Edward tilts his head to the side, squinting his eyes as he analyzes them from his place in the chair across from me. "Eh, maybe. They're not bothering anybody though." He finishes his drink and places it on the table between us.

"Come dance with me."

tgth

My sheets are full of sand when I wake up some time the next morning. _Or early afternoon_ , I realize as I glance at my phone to check the time. Angela and I snuck back in our rooms early this morning, and even though I was in my bed and my body ached from hours of dancing, I was nowhere near ready for sleep. Instead my body tingled in places hours after his hands had gone, leaving behind fire and ice that I had no idea how to extinguish.

Stretching, I drag myself out of bed, my body sore from the way Edward had manipulated it not too long before. It is a good kind of ache, the kind that makes me smile to myself and makes me count down the hours until Angela and I can disappear back for more.

The only thing on the agenda today is sun worshiping on the beach and an hour at Rosalie's lesson. I have no intention of taking her up on her offer of dancing like her in a week's time, but it is a great way to pass the hour.

After spending most of the night dancing with Edward at the party, I need all the tips I can get if I want to continue dancing with him again. My legs felt like Jell-O before we even started moving, the walk onto the dance floor seemed endless as I tried to ignore the stares from people around us. If I thought walking with Edward was difficult, my legs almost gave out from under me at the first move of his hips.

"Just relax," he had whispered, his hands sliding down my arms and stopping on my lower back, pulling me against him. His breath danced across my cheek, down my jaw and into my stomach. I shivered in his arms.

"Okay."

And that was where we stayed until three in the morning, and the only reason we stopped was because most of the staff had to be ready for the six a.m. breakfast shift. We parted with knowing smiles on our faces.

I knew that was not going to be the last time I ever danced with Edward Cullen.

Angela and I make it through the day with Mom, both of us antsy for our 3:00 hour with Rosalie. There are ten other people in the group lesson with us, and the hour passes quickly with laughs and triumphs as we all learn the basics.

At 10:00 that evening, I hear a knock on the door and Angela lets herself into my cottage as I finish getting ready. After prancing around town with Mom for the day with our best casual attires on display, I feel more like myself finally in a pair of faded jean shorts. I throw on a simple white tank and slip my black flip flops onto my feet.

"You ready?" I ask as I coat my lips in a light gloss.

"I've been ready since this morning. Let's go!"

"Eager, are we?"

"Like you aren't. I saw you with Edward last night."

"And I saw you with Ben. What's your point?"

"My point is that don't think I didn't see you check your phone all day counting down the minutes."

We banter back and forth for the whole walk down the beach and to the staff area, our steps light and our moods even lighter. Angela, being three years older than me, often takes the brunt of dealing with our divorced parents. She has happier memories of them, more so than I do, and it's nice to see her with her hair down and a smile on her tanned skin. Maybe Ben is the reason for it, I don't know and I don't really care.

All I know is that this vacation has been the best yet and we're only a few days in.

We arrive at the staff area ten minutes later and see that everyone is mingling outside in the darkness, the crash of the waves being our soundtrack for the evening instead of the music that had drifted down the beach last night. I can barely make out Emmett, Rosalie's boyfriend, and Seth a few yards away from us attempting to light tiki torches around our beach area. I see Jasper and Jacob in the center of it all, lighting the beginnings of a beach fire that already screams of home and comfort.

"What's going on?" Angela asks as we make our way towards Alice. She is throwing blankets around haphazardly on the sand, shaking her head in annoyance.

"Power's out again."

"Does that happen a lot?" Angela asks.

"Every now and then. We always improvise," Rosalie interjects, throwing another blanket down next to us. "Where is that super duty flashlight Emmett always likes to have around?"

"Haven't seen it since the last outage," Edward says out of nowhere, sliding next to me. He shoots me that same smirk from last night that flushes my skin and makes my heart race, leaning down towards me.

"Hey." It's not a whisper but it is said low in a tone that I know is meant for me. I smile knowingly at him, saying without words that I hope tonight begins where last night ended.

"Let me look in the hall closet one more time," Rosalie says, turning on the flashlight on her phone. "If it's not in there, I'm going to have to drive to town to get one."

She emerges again a few minute later.

"Can you drive?" Rosalie calls to Emmett. His face shines against the flame of the tiki torches and he shakes his head.

"Not me, babe. I've had a couple," he raises his bottle to show her and sends her an apologetic look.

"I can take you," Angela offers. After a few minutes of debate back and forth, Rosalie and Angela disappear down the opposite side of the beach towards Rosalie's car.

It only takes a few more minutes until the area is set for our night outside on the beach, and it doesn't take long for me to find out that I prefer this scene a lot more than last night. We all sit comfortably around the fire and torches, sprawled out on the blankets and other forms of comfort. Some have gone off on their own, but most of us stay together, sharing tales of working at The Sand Dollar over the years.

I realize halfway through that I hadn't laughed that hard in a long time, a fact I end up telling Edward a little while later as we walk through the surf. The air has chilled over the two hours since I arrived, and I welcome the hoodie that Edward throws over me. It smells exactly like him, I discover while discreetly trying to sniff it into memory. It is so big that I'm swimming in it, but I love every little thing about his huge hoodie and our night.

"So how long have you been dancing?" I ask him as the water splashes coldly around our ankles.

"My whole life, it feels like." Edward responds, bending down to pick up a shell in the moonlight. He offers it up to the moon for a better light and tosses it into the water a moment later. "My mom had her own dance studio when I was growing up so I spent a lot of time there with her."

"She taught you?" I wonder out loud. We keep walking.

"To a certain point. The rest just come naturally," he says casually, and I can still see his smile despite the darkness of the beach.

"So they say." He adds, and I start thinking back to how I stumbled my way through our first couple of dances last night and at lessons with Rosalie the past two days. I know he's thinking of this as well when I feel his shoulders start to shake next to me as we walk. I shove him playfully in the stomach, taking every opportunity I have to touch him. He laughs and rubs the spot jokingly.

"So I'm not the best dancer around," I admit, throwing my hands up in defeat. "You caught me."

"I've seen worse," Edward replies. He stops walking and I follow, almost bumping into him. He looks at me in the darkness. "You have potential. Everyone can be taught."

"Even me?"

"Even you."

"I'm not sure about that," I laugh. "You saw me out there."

"I did." He laughs but stops to take my hands in his, and I barely remember how to speak at the feel of his hands holding mine. Those hands were all over me last night in ways that would make Mom faint, but this little moment of holding hands has me shaking like a leaf.

"And?" I squeak out, not realizing how far we walked until we hear a voice calling us from a distance.

It's Emmett.

"Edward!" Emmett yells, running across the sand, causing it to scatter around us. "Rose was in an accident. Angela, too." He says, looking my way before turning to head back to the staff area.

"What?" I shriek, chasing after him with Edward right next to me.

"They're fine," Emmett says but keeps running, looking over his shoulder. "They're at the hospital. Let's go."

tgth

"It could be a lot worse than a broken ankle," Rosalie says as we all gather around her bed in the ER. Her bed, and Angela's, is separated by a tiny curtain and we take turns going back and forth between the two. The pacing helps to calm my nerves.

Rose looks over at me from her bed. "Angela okay?"

I nod my head and place a hand on her good leg. "She'll be fine. No concussion, luckily. Just a couple scratches."

"What happened? Where is she?"

My toes curl at the shrill sound of Mom's voice breaking through the sterile rooms, and I hear the sound of my sister's curtain being pulled open abruptly. I point a thumb towards the sound, and slip away from Rose's bed to join my sister and my mother. I had been in Rose's room as the Doctor had finished sewing the last of Angela's stitches, my stomach never being strong enough to withstand that kind of image. I take one last glimpse of Edward before I leave, his eyes guarded and shoulders heavy with the stress of the night.

"Angela swerved to miss a deer. Right into the trees," I explain as I slide in next to Mom, rubbing my eyes as the late hour starts to get the best of me.

"I bet rumors are already spreading," Mom mutters, running her hands down her face in worry. I stare at her incrediously.

"That's what you're worried about?" I hiss, pointing towards Angela who is too shaken up and exhausted of being poked and prodded to fight.

"Of course not, dear. I'm just stating fact." Renee says, taking this moment to head over Angela to take on her role as Mother of The Year. She examines the scratches and bruises and continues, "We just have to try to keep it quiet."

"Quiet? How are we going to do that if the hotel's one and only dance instructor has a broken ankle?"

"I can cover her classes."

I turn around to see that I had forgotten to close the curtain behind me, and Edward and Emmett are leaning up against the nurse's station outside of the room.

"And what about the Showcase on Friday? Who will fill in for Rose then?" Emmett suggests, hitting Edward lightly on the shoulder. I see Edward hesitate and his head fall forward in frustration.

"What's this Showcase?" My mother asks, taking her eyes off of Angela to focus on the conversation going on.

Emmett sighs, the situation weighing heavy on his heart. "Every week Rose and Edward perform the dances taught during the week in front of the whole hotel. The guests perform their dances, too."

"And with Rose being out, Edward can't perform." I add.

"Isabella will do it." Mom says this with such an heir of nonchalance that I almost fall out of my chair.

"That's going to be a hard no," I manage to spit out, the anger in my words sharp enough to cut the tension in the room.

"You have to. It's the least we can do considering your sister was driving the car that started this whole mess."

I grow more and more infuriated at each word and this time I cannot retain myself and fly out of my seat in a rage.

"So ask Angela to do it!" I cry, noticing that Edward has left his spot next to the nurse's station and is standing behind me.

"Do I look like I'm up for that this week? It's in three days!" This is the first time that Angela has spoken since Mom got here, and the sound of her voice sounding tired and weak makes me feel guilty for even suggesting her to dance in the first place.

"There's a whole staff of entertainers at the hotel that would love to step up and do this," I try to rationalize, turning towards Edward and Emmett.

"Your mother may be right," Emmett says, my eyes widening at how this hole I'm in just keeps growing bigger. "The weekly showcase is our busiest night of the week. We can't pull staff away from their assigned duties the night of the showcase. Our best choice right now is to have someone else fill in for Rose."

"This is ridiculous. You've all seen me in these classes this week! I'm the worst choice for this, I'm telling you." A scene of me knocking into three different people flashes across my eyes, mocking me.

"I can teach you, Bella." Edward says from behind me. I turn to look at him like he has three heads. "If you'd like." He adds.

I like dancing within the privacy of my own bedroom or surrounded by my college roommates. I can do a wicked Electric Slide and Cupid's Shuffle. I can barely walk in heels, let alone dance in the kind Rose wears.

But when a pair of green eyes meet mine, and a reassuring smile dances across his lips, I'm a goner.

 _Fuck._

"Okay."

tgth

"No, not like that. Like this."

"That's okay. Try again."

"Damnit, Bella. Look at me."

"I'm done! Find someone else!"

"One. More. Try."

"I can't do this."

"You got this."

"Ouch! That's my toe!"

"Watch the feet!"

"Believe in yourself."

"I don't know how anyone can expect me to become Rosalie in three days' time," I say after twelve hours of non-stop practice. My toes and feet are blistered, I'm pretty sure I have more bruises than Angela, and I believe I have pushed both Rose and Edward's patience to the limit. We are at Rosalie's cottage on her back patio, giving us just enough space to practice the routines in private. Thank God for that because the amount of profanities that have spewed from my mouth in two days is enough to send me straight to hell.

"No one is asking that of you, Bella." Edward plops himself down in the chair opposite Rosalie, careful not to bump into the boot that dons her left ankle. The sweat slides down his face and he wipes it with the bottom of his shirt, granting me a quick glimpse of the washboard he calls his abs.

All of a sudden I'm sweating, too. He's breathing heavy as he continues. "We just need to be able to complete the dance for the Showcase and we'll be done. That's it."

And we continue.

Two more hours of counting steps and rolling eyes, and Edward and I are finished for the night. I hold my shoes in my hand and let the salt water sting my feet into submission as we leave Rosalie's and head towards the garden so Edward can make his last rounds for the night.

"Why does it mean so much to you anyway, this showcase?"

He contemplates his answer before responding. "The money is good. Great. I make more performing one showcase than I do in a week here as the groundkeeper."

"So just money?"

His shoulders rise and fall. "Money means a lot around here. And to me, it's my ticket out."

"You don't plan on staying here forever like Alice and Jasper?"

"Not at all," He chuckles, and we stop as we enter the garden. I let him tend to them, and watch him from the small bench in the corner. After a few minutes of surveying the garden, he looks at me again.

"Every check they cut me for the showcase goes right towards my nursery."

"Nursery? Like plants?" I say stupidly, my eyes slowly taking in all of the hard work that Edward has put into this garden and the rest of the grounds of The Sand Dollar.

"I've always wanted my own. Ever since I watched my dad plant his first pear tree in our backyard and watched it grow."

"That explains the garden."

"What about it?"

"Nothing, I can just tell that it means a lot to you."

He nods and sits down next to me on the bench, his arm falling around the back of it, inches away from my hair. The past day and a half have been filled with Edward's hands on my body, slowly memorizing my skin with his fingertips. I should be used to it by now, but the way his fingers move through the ends of my pony tail behind me is different.

I can feel a chill ghost across my skin.

"My dad died before he could see his garden grow completely. The way he wanted to, at least," Edward says and I'm at a loss of words.

"I'm sor-"

"You're sorry. Yeah, I know. It's okay."

I kick my toe into the gravel of the garden's path around the bench. "I'm sure you've heard that a lot."

He agrees with a nod and a sad smile, "Too much. I don't take it personally. It's just an instinctual response from people to fill an awkward silence."

"You mean like this one?"

We laugh but this time he grabs my hand and doesn't move it.

"I don't really feel any awkwardness right now. Not with you."

"That's funny." I say in disbelief, and he looks at me quizzically. I laugh harder this time. "No really. I'm usually the Queen of Awkward."

"All I see is someone who stepped up when it was so easy to step down. What you're doing isn't easy," he adds, his fingers tracing patterns around my own. He stares down at them and back up at me.

"Yeah, no shit." I take a deep breath in acknowledgment. "My mom may seem like her intentions are pure but the only reason she even offered me up for this is because she doesn't want any negative attention drawn to her or us."

"Doesn't every Mother do that though?"

I think for a minute. In a way I can agree with him, as no mother ever wants anything negative to happen to or around her children, but therein lies the difference: Renee isn't concerned about our well-being, but more so how our wellbeing will affect her ability to mask her own vulnerabilities.

"I guess so. But not with Renee. I love her but she's very superficial, always has been. Especially when it comes to anything tarnishing her reputation around here."

"Well if it makes you feel any better, I wasn't aware you or her had any kind of reputation, good or bad."

"I don't care about that stuff. If someone were to tell me that we were excommunicated from here for the rest of time, it wouldn't really bother me. Yeah, it's beautiful here and the company is great," I chime, shooting him a smirk, "but there are so many beautiful places in this world. I would be okay," I confirm.

"That's a good way of seeing it, I suppose. I plan on taking off once I have enough saved to open up my own nursery."

"You plan on opening one back home?"

"Yeah, maybe."

"And where is home?" I inquire, listening to the wind brush the flowers against each other.

"Eh, just a small little town here in upstate New York."

"What's keeping you from going back?"

Edward shakes his head. "I have no problem going back. I know I'd be fine. My mom still lives there and I have some family and friends around, too."

"Then what's the problem?" I whisper.

"Maybe I'm thinking more like you. Maybe there's more world for me out there."

"Tons of earth for nurseries." I remark, enjoying the touch of his fingers moving against my skin.

"Where is home for you?" He requests.

"For now, a small little town like yours, in Washington. I grew up there, in Forks. My dad still lives there so I'll be back and forth between there and Seattle once school starts at the end of August."

"School?"

"Grad school." I groan and my head falls against his shoulder which shakes with silent laughter.

"Nice."

We sit quietly for what feels like hours but that is how time usually feels when I'm with Edward.

"What's it like in Forks?" He asks a little while later when my body is ready to collapse from fatigue. My eyes are heavy and I groan at the stiffness in my legs.

"It's fun. It's home. Just your typical small town with the same people you met before Kindergarten. Bonfires on the beach in the summer, snow and ice in the winter."

"Sounds nice."

"It can be. For some people."

"Not for everyone, I gather."

We both know we speak of Renee.

"She was meant for here. Always felt she was bigger than what my sister and I chained her to. It was better once they split and she left. We get along much better when we're on opposite sides of the country," I add with a laugh. "Do you get along with your mom?"

He nods enthusiastically and I can see his green eyes light up in the moonlight. "Oh, yeah. She's amazing, especially after losing Dad earlier than we thought."

"Was it sudden?"

"Pancreatic cancer. It never takes long."

"And your dream of a nursery is what he would have wanted for you?"

He ponders my question for a moment, and turns to look at me again.

"Of course. It's what he wanted for himself. For us."

Edward glances at his watch and we both know it's time to head in for the night.

"How many more showcases do you need to get it all started?"

"If all goes as planned," he pauses and shows his crossed fingers, "This summer should be my last summer here."

"Rosalie being out for the next few weeks has to change everything," I figure out loud as we walk towards my patio.

"It changes some things, yes. Not everything."

"How do you figure?"

He shoves his hands into his pockets and looks down towards the concrete of my patio. "I picked up a few other shifts for the rest of the summer. Covering her classes helps, too."

"Do you have time to sleep?"

"Sometimes even a whole hour."

At that thought we separate for the night. I know I need to rest up for tomorrow's practice but sleep does not come easy.

tgth

"Relax. Close your eyes and listen to the music," Edward breathes as we twirl around Rose's back patio. We have one final portion of the routine that I just cannot get down and the frustration is mounting within me. Edward has dealt with me for the better part of two hours, and his positive attitude has yet to wear off on me. "You're almost there."

"It's this one part, Edward. I can't do it."

"You'll be fine. I'm telling you, you've got this."

I pause with my hands on my hips. "What if you drop me?"

"Then we fall." He replies as if it's nothing.

I stare at him with wide eyes. "We can break our necks!" I exclaim in annoyance.

"We can, sure. But we won't."

I sigh loudly, throwing myself onto Rose's chaise lounge. Edward pats my leg and wordlessly I slide them over so he can sit at the end of the lounge. "Hey, look." He says, pointing down towards the beach.

"Follow me."

"In there?" I nudge my chin towards the water, the late evening sun bouncing its orange reflection onto us.

"Best way to practice," Edward says and I try not to gape at him as he unzips his shorts and steps out of them and into the sand. His shirt soon follows and everything I thought about his body is a lie.

It's even better than I imagined.

He's still talking.

"This way, if you fall – "

"You mean if you drop me?" I tilt my head to side with a sarcastic smile across my lips.

"I mean if you fall," he states again, "you'll fall right into the water."

"I don't have a bathing suit."

He shakes his head. "We don't have time for you to go back and get one. The show is in two days."

"Thanks for the reminder," I groan and dramatically plop myself onto the sound. His laughter from the water brings me back up to a sitting position.

"Are you coming in or not?"

"Do I have a choice?" I mutter rhetorically, and with a moan of defeat, I slide my shorts down my legs. My shirt soon follows, and the fact that Edward hasn't diverted his eyes makes me feel even bolder as I join him in the water.

His hand reaches out for mine and he walks us to a spot that he deems perfect for the last part of the routine.

The Lift.

"Okay," Edward says, his arms reaching around to pull me flush up against him. We stand still for a moment, knowing that everything is about to change. The hands that had a polite grip on my waist in previous practices now hold me with need and desire. He swallows, staring down at me, his eyes jumping from my lips to my eyes to my shoulders, to below. "Now jump. I've got you."

I jump at the same time that he surges me forward, and for a second we're suspended in time. The water drips off my body and splashes onto his face, making us both laugh and dip forward.

"Edward!" I shout his name before I dive forward and Edward falls backwards. We both come up from the water sputtering, and the way I felt moments before when his hands were on my waist is nothing compared to the way I feel when his lips finally touch my my own.

I lose myself in his kiss, his lips soft and firm, his tongue warm and wet as we begin a whole new type of practice.

0\. This is the kind of practice my body craves, and I can feel that his body craves it, as well. We pull apart eventually before he moves in for a few more tiny kisses.

With hundreds of more kisses in between, I nail The Life that night in the water.

tgth

I don't know how it happens, but it is the night before the showcase, and I am walking around the wooden boards of Rosalie's gazebo. It is where I took Rosalie's lessons before the accident, and it is where Edward and I will perform the showcase in a mere twenty four hours.

Butterflies dance in my stomach as my heels knock against the wood, the twinkling lights above me shining softly on the padded seats for the guests to watch the performance.

It is the first time I've ever been out here at night, and I had slipped away after dessert with Angela and my mom a little while ago in an attempt to ease my nerves.

When I hear footsteps a little while later, I already know who it is. I lean back into him as he steps behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and dropping a kiss onto my neck.

"So this is it, huh?" I whisper into the twilight as he guides us to the center of the gazebo. He steps away from me and bows in front of me, a small smile on his handsome face. "Final practice?"

"Final practice." Edward confirms, and we begin our routine.

I'm at the point in my resolve where I know I know it, I know as much as I'll ever know at this point. The only thing that can mess me up is my own nerves.

It's hard to be nervous when I have Edward as a partner, but I still can't help the unease that settles in the pits of my stomach.

"I'm nervous." I admit, as our dance comes to a close. I deny myself our Lift, not trusting myself in my nerves and my heels.

"I told you you'll be fine. You're perfect," He silences me with a kiss.

I smile at a distant memory as we sit on the seats. "A week ago tonight I was at my mom's house preparing for this trip, and never once did I think that a week later I'd be preparing for this."

"Are you leaving tomorrow?"

"Saturday morning."

"I see." He places a kiss on my shoulder and stands up, pulling me towards him. "I'll walk you home."

"You won't get in trouble?"

"No one will see," he says with a shake of his head.

When Edward leans in on my doorstep to say goodnight, I'm too busy wrapped up in his kiss to tell him to stop. We lean against my door, his lips dancing against my own with intensity strong enough to rob me of my breath. I sneak my hand behind me and slide my key into the lock, turning the handle and pulling him inside without a second thought.

I'm too busy wrapped up in Edward to stop the door from slamming behind us as we disappear inside.

We're too wrapped up in each other, tripping over discarded clothes and fumbling hands and fingers to even think about anything else.

We're too wrapped up in each other, his hands and fingers and lips and mouth driving me to the point of insanity.

We're too wrapped up in the sheets, Edward's name being the only thing I am capable of speaking, to think about anything other than each other.

He's too wrapped up in me to stop himself, and as my eyes close and my fingers grip the headboard in a desperate attempt to keep a hold onto this Earth, my name rolls off his lips in never ending prose.

We're too wrapped up in each other to notice a pair of eyes had trailed behind us as soon as we left the gazebo hours before.

tgth

"Eat something, Bella," Angela scolds, leading me towards the buffet in the hotel for breakfast.

"I can't. I'm too nervous." The sight of food may make me throw up. I can feel more than see Angela roll her eyes at me.

"The showcase isn't for another eight hours. You have to eat something,"

"It's not a question of being able to eat. It's the keeping it down part that's questionable."

"Isabella, darling," Mom appears, sidling next to us and leading us over to her table. "Sit down, please."

"We were going to the buffet," Angela says as Lauren places a menu in front of her. Angela smiles at her and turns to Mom once Lauren leaves us to peruse the menu. "I'm too hungry to wait."

"I think it's best if you stayed over here," Mom replies, not looking up from her menu. "Especially Isabella."

"Here? In the corner? Why?"

Mom doesn't answer and she leans over so Alice can pour us hot cups of coffee. As she leans, I am granted a view of the guests behind her, and around her, all looking in our direction before turning their focus back onto their heaping plates of bacon and eggs.

"What's going on, Alice?" I whisper harshly, not liking the feeling of apprehension that is creeping up my skin like a spider.

"They fired Edward this morning."

"What?" My utensils clatter loudly against my plate and I can't give any more fucks about who sees.

"Why?" I shout, my stomach serious this time about turning against me.

"Shh, shh. Sit down, Bella."

I don't even realize I'm standing until I feel Mom's fingers on my elbow, practically shoving me back into my chair.

"What's going on, Alice? Tell me!" I plead, tears in my eyes as I reach for her hand.

"Someone saw him leaving your cottage last night and told one of the owners. He has to leave immediately." My mom answers for her and for the first time in twenty two years, I am speechless. I have nothing to say.

Nothing coherent, at least.

"That's not fair!" I sputter out eventually, rising out of my chair again to follow Alice back towards the host station.

"None of this is fair, Bella," Alice says before she resumes her place behind the podium. She glances around before leaning it. "Go. Before he does."

tgth

The distance between his cottage and the hotel has never felt as long as it feels now. I am in a full run, my lungs burning in my chest and my calves on fire as my feet battle against the sand.

I throw myself into his room, not bothering to check to see if he is alone, not caring either way.

"Is it true?" I heave, throwing myself at him as he shoves the last of his belongings into a bag on his bed. He finishes with the zipper before standing straight again, running his hands up my arms as I hold his waist from behind. I can't stop the tears once they start. "Tell me it's not true. Are you really leaving?"

He inhales deeply and I feel his head move up and down in confirmation. I can feel how somber the movement is, years of dedication lost because of me.

"What other choice do I have? I have to." He answers, turning around so we're facing each other. He steps back once he sees the tears falling down my face, and I watch him struggle with his own emotions as he moves to place the bag on his shoulder.

"Tell them it's not true! Tell them you were in the garden and whoever told them must have been confused about what they saw!" I am practically begging him, my hands reaching out to grasp any part of him I can muster.

"I tried! To them, it doesn't matter if it's true or not. The only thing that matters is that a guest saw me and told them personally. They rely on reputation just as much as your mother, Bella."

I look at him in amazement, a combination of sadness and anger and frustration pushing me to my breaking point.

"So that's it?" I ask, sitting down on his bed with my head in my hands. I look up at him sitting by his window. "If you leave now all your plans will be for nothing, Edward. What will happen to your nursery?"

He wipes his eyes with the back of his hand, trying to hide what he's really feeling. He moves and stands up, away from the window and into his bathroom to make sure he's not leaving anything behind. "I'll just have to push it off for another few years. Work and save a little longer."

I can tell he's trying to act like this place and this decision doesn't have an effect on him but he forgets that I'm starting to catch on to him. He forgets that the hours we spent last night together was a window into his soul, those moments unveiling a layer of insecurities that I'm learning to read. I can tell that this is just as devastating to him as it is to the rest of us.

I walk over to him, stopping him from his pacing. "I can't let this happen to you because of me."

"Hey, look at me." He places my chin between his fingers and our eyes of chocolate and emerald search for vindication amongst a sea of corruption. "I chose to walk you home. I chose to follow you inside. And I won't regret it, Bella. Ever."

A sob escapes from my mouth and he moves to hold me, placing a kiss on my forehead and wrapping his arms more tightly around my waist. I feel like I can barely breathe but I don't move. I savor every second before he loosens his grip and steps backwards.

"Where will you go?" I sniffle and slide a piece of hair behind my ear.

He exhales loudly and picks his bag up from the floor. "Back upstate for a little while. Look for work there until something better comes along."

"How long before you have to leave?" I croak, my voice and heart cracking with guilt and the thought of watching him go.

At that moment a knock on the door disrupts us, and I already know it is Emmett here to take him to the train station. He has the decency to hop off the porch so I can get one last goodbye; one last kiss intermingled with my tears and my heartache.

He doesn't say goodbye, just leaves me with one last kiss on my forehead before he disappears from his cottage, his job, and my life.

tgth

It makes me sick to think that just hours earlier I was worried about my choice of breakfast. It is 7:00 and I am supposed to be risking my life in a pair of silver heels and holding my breath so I can fit into one of Rose's sexy dance dresses, but instead I sit with my back against the wooden barricades of the gazebo. My mom and sister are flanked on both sides of me, my sister there for support as I watch the guests get ready to take center stage for their own performance, my mom to make sure I don't embarrass her any more than I already have.

Rosalie enters the gazebo with a smile and her black boot pounding against the wooden floors, making it look so good that I wouldn't put it past some of the girls to try to break their own legs if it meant looking this good. Once the guests are in proper formation, Rosalie leans into the microphone to begin the show.

"Hello, everyone! It is a pleasure to see you all here in my gazebo tonight," she begins, her eyes spanning out amongst the crowd to see who has joined in to celebrate her favorite night of the week. To Rosalie, it's more than just a night. It's more than a Showcase. It's a chance for her to watch her own love of dance manifest itself in the lives of others around her. It is a moment that always brings joy to her life, tears to her eyes, and humbles her greatly. She clears her throat and continues.

"This past week has been exciting, to say the least. We've had to make some necessary changes here and there," she pauses and raises her boot, the crowd clapping and cheering at her perseverance, "but one thing has never changed: The Dance."

We are all quiet as we listen, and I feel my emotional turmoil begin to rear its' ugly head again when she points to the row of dancers behind her. "These dancers behind me have proven this week that if you want something bad enough, you fight for it."

At this, her eyes find mine in the crowd and she smiles softly at me. Angela reaches for my hand. As much as I feared the dance, I would do anything to have him here with me up there, calming me down with words and kisses as we prepare for our dance.

"I won't be dancing tonight, but these folks up here sure have worked their hardest this week trying to get the dance perfect. I present to you, this week's dancers."

The crowd claps and grows silent as the dancers begin their routine. It is all in good fun and you can tell that the newly appointed dancers have taken pride in their work and it shows. They ace the whole routine, and the claps and cheers once they finish are genuine and well received.

They are completing their final bows when the cheers suddenly stop and everyone's attention is diverted to the entrance of the gazebo. Initially I can't see the commotion over the tiny spot in the corner where Mom has placed me, wedged between my mother and sister, but once I see what the fuss is about, I freeze.

Edward is scanning the room looking for me, his eyes bouncing from face to face until he sees me. I can see him inhale sharply, the intent in his steps very well understood. He walks until he's standing over us, muttering apologies to anyone he may have bumped into on his trek over here.

My brain still hasn't registered that he's here, standing in front of everyone at the Showcase. His former employers watch him in fear, knowing that if they were to make a scene by asking him to leave that it would garner unwanted focus onto their business. The crowd not only recognizes him, but welcomes him as he musters the courage to speak to my mother.

"Nobody puts Bella in the corner."

With that, he holds his hand out for me to take it, and with a happiness raging deep within me, I place my hand in his and he walks us to the front of the room. The rest of the dancers have left the stage as it was obvious that Edward's arrival is the encore; it is what everyone has been waiting for.

If Edward is nervous as he leans into the microphone, he doesn't show it. Instead he taps the device twice to make sure that no one has unplugged him.

"Hello," he says to the crowd of curious onlookers. "Hi. I'm Edward Cullen. Every year I do the final performance at the Showcase. Nothing is going to take that away from me."

The crowd claps hesitantly, unsure what is appropriate in a situation such as this. Edward's voice gains confidence as he tightens his grip on my hand.

"This is Bella Swan, another dancer here at The Sand Dollar. She's worked her ass off this week and she too, deserves her chance to show everyone that she has what it takes. In anything she sets her mind to," he finishes, handing the microphone stand to Jasper and retreating to his side of the stage to get into his formation.

I'm stunned in silence until I hear the beginning sounds of our song flow into the cool July evening, and all nerves disappear when I see him smile at me from across the stage.

It's a smile I've never seen before but I must recognize it as the one that matches my own. The next few minutes we whirl across the makeshift stage in the gazebo, the rest of the crowd and the world disappearing as we move together to our own melody. Our own symphony.

Our own story.

When an instant of doubt flashes across my face, he gives me a smile that takes me back to our time in the water, the time when the fear of The Lift was the one thing that kept me from having all of Edward; his kiss, his touch, his life that now sits in the palm of my hand.

I have nothing to fear anymore. His smile promises me that I am his, he is mine, and that we are doing this dance together.

With a deep breath and a quick prayer, I run and take that leap, knowing full well that the foundation beneath me will support me anywhere I go.

The crowd cheers as Edward holds me high towards the string lights in the gazebo, even my mother looking on with what looks like pride animated on her features.

While the crowd still deafens in applause, I slide down Edward's body and soon he has gently planted me back on Earth. We spin in slow circles, unable to wipe the joy off of our faces if we tried, and he presses his forehead against mine.

"I couldn't miss The Dance," he says, holding each side of my face in his hands before leaning in to place a kiss against my lips.

I couldn't agree with him more.


End file.
